Blackmail
by Deana
Summary: Is Aramis in danger? None of them are quite sure. (My entry for the September 'Fête des Mousquetaires' contest!)
1. Chapter 1

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 **Blackmail**  
A Musketeer story by Deana

This is my entry for the September 'Fête des Mousquetaires' contest: Tag to/what happens after S1E10

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"The cardinal wants _me_ to escort him?"

Treville nodded at Aramis. "Yes."

Aramis looked at Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan, who were visibly unnerved.

"None of us can go with them?" Porthos asked.

Treville shook his head. "No. Richelieu said Aramis only."

"What is this thing again?" Porthos asked.

"The ordination of a new bishop," said Treville. "Richelieu is obligated to go."

"Won't he have some of his Red Guards?" Porthos pressed.

"Yes, but Louis wanted a musketeer to accompany the cardinal as his personal guard," said Treville. "Out of the entire regiment, it makes sense to choose you, Aramis," he said. "Not only for your marksmanship, but he knows of your religious nature and felt that you were the best choice."

Aramis couldn't argue his logic. "When are we to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Treville told him. "You should be back in four days."

Aramis nodded. "I'll be ready."

Treville nodded and walked away.

Aramis looked at the others, from where they all sat at the outside table.

"I don't like this," said Porthos.

" _Someone_ has to go," Aramis answered.

"The cardinal can't be trusted," said d'Artagnan. "What if he has something else planned?"

"Like what?" Aramis asked, though he wondered the same thing. "He needs protection, and he chose _me_. I should be honored that he considers me to be the best of us!" He said it with a smile.

The others chuckled.

Aramis turned to Athos. "You're quiet, which isn't surprising, though."

Athos knew that Aramis was being comical in order to ease the tension brought on by the situation. "They are correct," he said. "But so are you."

"What, that I'm the best?" said Aramis. He put his hand over his heart. "That's high praise, coming from you, my friend!"

Athos didn't laugh. " _They_ are right that he cannot be trusted, _Treville_ is right that he likely chose you because of your shooting skill, and _you_ are right that he needs _someone._ "

Aramis' smile faded. "A moment ago I was the best, and now I've been reduced to just 'someone'." He gave a dramatic sigh.

Athos' expression turned stern. "Be careful."

Aramis looked at him and dropped the humor. "I will."

They went to their favorite tavern for supper, and Aramis saw that Porthos and d'Artagnan each drank a little more than usual, showing their unease. Athos, on the other hand, drank less, obviously wanting to have his wits when it came time for Aramis to leave.

When morning came, they made sure that Aramis had everything that he needed, and all four of them rode to the palace, where they found a loaded carriage. They were directed to the gardens, where Richelieu was waiting.

"Your escort has arrived, Cardinal," King Louis' voice piped up.

The musketeers found Louis, Richelieu, and Queen Anne all seated outside, enjoying the delightful weather.

Aramis' eyes were automatically drawn to the queen, until he felt Athos 'accidentally' bump into him.

"I told Treville that I requested only Aramis to accompany me," said Richelieu.

The musketeers bowed before the king and queen, before Aramis spoke. "They simply came to see me off."

King Louis nodded, before saying to Richelieu, "Safe travels; don't stop at any taverns!" He laughed with his full-toothed smile.

Richelieu smiled back and said his goodbyes before they all walked away.

"I don't like this," said Porthos, as they walked back to the carriage." I don't want you to go alone."

Aramis sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's just another mission. I'll be back before you know it."

"You'd better be." With that, Porthos grabbed him in a bear hug so tight that Aramis' breath instantly fled his lungs.

Aramis returned the hug and patted him on the back. No sooner was he released than d'Artagnan replaced him.

"Stay safe," d'Artagnan whispered.

Aramis smiled. "I will."

Athos was last, and Aramis said into his ear, "Don't let them worry." He felt Athos nod. "And that goes for you too."

"A touching display," Richelieu's voice called. "But time is precious."

Aramis and Athos pulled apart and Aramis mounted his horse. "I'll see you in four days."

They all solemnly nodded, as if four days was four _weeks_.

The carriage started to roll and Aramis nudged Bella into a walk, turning to wave at his friends, who all waved back.

Aramis directed Bella to ride right beside the carriage door, where he could see Richelieu's profile. He scanned the terrain and saw no evidence of a threat, but he didn't relax, not while he was protecting the First Minister of France.

"You don't have to keep doing that," Richelieu said, some time later.

Aramis glanced at him as he checked his pistol. "Do what, Your Eminence?"

Richelieu had leaned over so his face and hand were out the window. "You've checked your pistols and musket several times. They are the same as they were the _last_ time."

Aramis smiled slightly. "A good musketeer is ready for anything."

"That explains much," Richelieu answered.

Aramis paused, wondering if the cardinal had just complimented him.

The journey was a pleasant one, as the weather was sunny and warm. They stopped after a couple of hours to let Richelieu out for a few minutes, and Aramis dismounted and walked behind him as Richelieu stretched his legs. He knew that his marksmanship skill was valued, but he was still slightly surprised about the situation.

"I know what you're thinking," Richelieu suddenly said, as he stopped at the side of the road to look out over a field.

Aramis walked a few steps closer. "Do you?"

Richelieu nodded. "Your skill with pistol and musket is unmatched; I would be a fool to think that any of my Red Guards could take down an enemy in half the time that _you_ could."

Aramis was surprised at his bluntness.

Richelieu turned to glance at him. "I don't fear praising you above my guards; for if you were to repeat my words, no one would believe that they came from my own lips."

Aramis smiled slightly. "Indeed."

"But yes, as you suspect, it is even more than that," the cardinal told him. "I know things about you."

Aramis stopped breathing. What was he referring to? Adele? Queen Anne? _Both?_

Richelieu glanced at him again. "My, has that struck a nerve?" He smiled. "I simply refer to your religious nature. None of my guards are as…pious?...as you, and where we're going, I hoped to…to share God with someone."

Aramis couldn't have been more stunned. Was Richelieu pulling some huge jest with him? "But the other clergymen at the church…?"

"They pretend to be friendly towards me, but I can trust none of them," said Richelieu. He turned his steady gaze on the musketeer. "But I can trust _you_ , am I right, Aramis?"

Aramis blinked before saying, "Of course, Your Eminence; I will protect you with my life."

Richelieu smiled slightly. "We can't have _that_ , now can we?" With that, he turned to head back to the carriage.

Aramis watched him go, stunned at the odd conversation. What on earth had made the cardinal say such things? Shaking his head, he followed and remounted his horse.

It was well past evening by the time that they arrived in Rouen. Aramis dismounted and opened the carriage door, politely offering his arm for Richelieu to grasp as he stepped out.

Richelieu acknowledged the gesture with a nod and started to walk into the cathedral as men came out to unload the cardinal's things. As they stepped inside, they were met by the church bishop.

"Cardinal Richelieu," said the man. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"Bishop Beaulieu," said the cardinal. "It's been two years, I believe?"

"Indeed," said the bishop."

Richelieu gestured to the right. "This is Aramis; one of King Louis' finest musketeers."

Aramis was surprised at the glowing introduction, and stepped forward. He remembered what Richelieu said about not being able to trust anyone, and perfectly fell into the role that Richelieu obviously wanted him to take. "I am here as the cardinal's personal guard."

"He is…one of us, you could say," said Richelieu. "A man of God, if not a man of the cloth."

The bishop was pleased. "That is wonderful; I hope that you enjoy yourself here, Monsieur Aramis."

"I'm sure that I will," Aramis replied.

Beaulieu looked at Richelieu again. "You must be exhausted; I will have someone take you to your room in the rectory and have supper brought up."

Richelieu let out a breath, and Aramis could see that it was true; he looked very tired. "That would be most welcome."

Minutes later, they were standing in Richelieu's room. There was a connecting door to Aramis', should the cardinal need his guard in a hurry.

Aramis went into his room and removed his weapons belts before sitting down, tired himself. The room was lovely, with a prie-dieu prayer bench near the bed. Aramis felt peace in the beautiful cathedral, and planned to give the bench much-use.

Soon, a knock on the door announced supper, and after putting the tray on his table, Aramis knocked on the connecting door.

"Aramis?"

"Yes."

"Come in."

Aramis did, walking over to the table where the confused cardinal sat.

"Yes?" said Richelieu.

"Did you eat anything yet?" Aramis asked.

"No."

"Good," said Aramis. "You said that you cannot trust anyone here; do you not wish me to act as food taster?"

Richelieu blinked, unsure if he was joking. He looked at his plate before looking at Aramis again. "I…admit that the notion did not enter my mind."

Aramis picked up the bottle of wine. "Was this open?"

"Yes."

Aramis poured some into the cup and drank it. He swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. "It's fine."

Richelieu made an incredulous sound. "As if you could be so sure!"

"I _am_ sure," said Aramis. "You forget that as a medic, I am well-versed when it comes to herbs and substances."

"I didn't realize the depth of your knowledge," Richelieu told him.

Wordlessly, Aramis picked up the fork and tasted the roasted pheasant. "Delicious," he said. "And not poisoned."

Richelieu watched as Aramis tasted everything before picking up a cloth napkin and wiping the fork. "You can dine with confidence, Your Eminence."

"I shall," Richelieu said.

Aramis inclined his head towards him before turning to go back to his own room.

Richelieu stared after him for a while. He knew that Aramis and his three friends had little respect for him—with plenty of reason—but he was impressed to see that it didn't get in the way of a mission. Aramis could easily have let him be poisoned—or could even poison him himself and lay the blame on someone in the church!

Next door, Aramis stripped out of his sash, jacket, and boots, and ate his own meal. Afterwards, he crossed to the prie-dieu bench and knelt, folding his hands at the top.

 _Lord,_ he prayed. _I thank you for the safe journey. Please help me keep the cardinal out of harm's way until we return home to Paris._

Aramis paused there and opened his eyes for a moment, before closing them again.

 _Richelieu is acting very strangely towards me…I'm not sure what to make of it. Grant me discernment, especially if there is any danger involved._

After praying, Aramis got into the bed and sighed with bliss; it was softer and larger than his own at the garrison. He read his Bible for a while before falling asleep with it on his chest, filled with God's peace.

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When Aramis woke the next morning, he was slightly confused to find himself in the large, comfortable bed, before he remembered why. Opening his eyes, he found the sunlight streaming into the window and he knew that it was later than he usually rose. With a slight gasp, he jumped out of the bed, headed to the connecting door, and knocked.

"Cardinal?" he called.

"Yes, I'm fine." he heard.

Aramis was relieved. He quickly dressed and left his room, standing outside Richelieu's door until he came out. "Good morning," he said.

Richelieu repeated it before they headed to the dining hall, where other clergymen awaited breakfast.

The food was served and Aramis looked at the cardinal, who shook his head, obviously assuming that no one would poison him right in front of everyone. Aramis never liked to assume, but he knew that it would be an extreme insult to their host for Richelieu to have his food tasted in public.

As they ate, Aramis looked at his fellow diners, and was struck at their demeanor. He could see open jealousy towards Richelieu on some of their faces. They were cordial towards him, but formal, not friendly.

"That is astonishingly beautiful," Aramis suddenly heard. He looked up to find the speaker.

"Your necklace." It was Bishop Beaulieu.

Aramis looked down, to see that his cross had come out of his shirt. "Thank you," he said, reaching up to tuck it back inside.

"Might I examine it?" Beaulieu asked.

Aramis hesitated, before drawing the chain over his head. He passed it to the person beside him, and watched as it made its way over to the man.

"This is stunning," the bishop said, studying the intricate lines and rubies. "I imagine it must be worth a small fortune. How did you acquire it?"

"It was a gift," Aramis told him.

"The giver must value you very highly," said the bishop. "Any of us here would give much to own it." He stared at it again for a moment, before passing it back.

It took a few minutes to return to Aramis, going all the way around the table before ending up in Richelieu's hand.

Aramis fought to not show anything in his face as Richelieu handed it back. He could feel the cardinal watching him as he slipped it over his head and tucked it back into his shirt.

After breakfast, they all headed to the Mass, and watched as Beaulieu ordained the new bishop.

The peace inside the cathedral was a balm to Aramis' soul. The stained-glass windows were beautiful, and Aramis found himself clutching his cross as he looked at the crucifix on the wall.

When the ceremony ended, everyone stood and followed Beaulieu out, congratulating the new bishop.

"I wish to remain here to pray," Richelieu told Aramis.

Aramis nodded and followed him back inside, sitting behind him a few pews away, so he could be alert for danger before it could reach the cardinal. As he sat, he wondered at Richelieu's odd behavior towards him, and he wondered what Richelieu was praying about.

The day passed pleasantly enough, until they once again found themselves in their rooms that night. About a half-hour later, there came a knock on the connecting door.

Aramis stood from his bed, where he'd been reclining with his Bible. "Come in," he said.

Richelieu entered. "Pardon the interruption," he said. "But I wish to speak with you."

A feeling of dread washed over Aramis, and he instantly knew that he was about to find out the real reason why Richelieu had chosen him as his guard.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

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Richelieu waved Aramis to sit back down. "I was praying for the health of France's heir. How wonderful that after all these years, the queen is finally with child."

Aramis' heartbeat sped up. _He knows._ "Wonderful, indeed," he agreed.

"And it happened so suddenly," said the cardinal. "One might wonder if the waters at Bourbon-les-eaux _can_ actually increase fertility*. Though, I doubt it; women usually travel there as an act of desperation. What do you think?"

Aramis forced himself to maintain eye contact. "I believe, as the Bible says, that children are a reward from God."

Richelieu nodded and looked away as he slowly paced in front of Aramis. "Yes yes, of course; it is a complete coincidence that the queen conceived a child around the time of the convent attack*."

There was no doubt now in Aramis' mind that Richelieu knew. All he could do was wait to see what the cardinal was going to do about it.

Richelieu looked at him again. "You needn't fear me…in _this,_ at least."

"In what?" Aramis asked, his voice sounding steadier than he felt.

Richelieu chuckled. "You are the true father of the future king of France. Don't try to deny it."

"You would slander the queen so?" Aramis said.

"You don't think that I know you, after all your years as a musketeer?" said Richelieu. "I can easily see the pining expression on your face when you look at her…and I see the same look in her eyes when _she_ looks at _you_." He pointed at Aramis' chest. "That necklace once belonged to her." He shook his head before walking over to the table and chair and sitting down. "All these years, it's the _king_ who is barren. How long has your affair with the queen lasted?"

Aramis stood. "We are _not_ having an affair!"

Richelieu looked surprised. "Are you telling me that it was just the once? How fortunate!"

Aramis frowned at that; the cardinal wasn't being sarcastic. "Fortunate?"

Richelieu stood and walked closer to him. "France needs an heir, and now we have one. Did you think that I would expose her so she can hang? She is carrying France's heir, and we _need_ that child. His true parentage is of no consequence, for a dauphin will finally be born to secure France's future, and that is all that matters. Though part of me would like to hang _you_ , I cannot, for it's always preferable for the heir to have a brother, just in case."

Aramis was stunned.

"How ironic," said Richelieu. "France's next king will be more Spanish than French."

Aramis found himself feeling lightheaded, and sat back down on his bed.

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Richelieu mocked.

Aramis said nothing, unsure of _what_ to say. Was Richelieu putting on an act, to get him to confess? He suddenly realized that his silence was a confession in itself.

"Well say _something_ ," Richelieu commanded. "You aren't the silent type."

Aramis looked at him and shook his head. "Nothing I say will convince you otherwise?"

Richelieu chuckled. "Of course not…but you don't have to try, because _one_ ," he held up a finger. "I know that it's true and _two_ : I decided not to do anything about it because we need an heir that Louis obviously cannot provide. Besides, I am no fool…I know what _you_ have over _me._ You and I both could blackmail each other."

Of course! They knew—the _queen_ knew—that Richelieu had tried to have her killed. If the king ever found out...

"You have my silence in this, Aramis…for the good of France." The cardinal suddenly looked away and sighed. "I'm glad to know that there will be an heir after I'm gone."

The way he said that made a puzzled frown come to Aramis' face. "You're dying?"

Richelieu looked like he hadn't meant to say that. "If you repeat that to anyone else, I'll deny it."

Aramis looked away, in shock.

Richelieu finally stood. "I'm sure that you have much to think on. As I said, I will gladly keep this secret, since it is in France's best interest." He looked at Aramis for a moment. "At least you have dark hair like the king…though perhaps the child will surprise us and have light hair like the queen! I do hope to live long enough to see." With that, he headed towards the door and left.

Aramis sat where he was, still too stunned to think. Once he was capable of movement again, he shakily headed for the prie-dieu bench and knelt, clasping trembling hands.

 _Lord, what can I say?_ he prayed. _Richelieu knows, yet there will be no retribution! I am stunned beyond belief, yet I find it hard to believe him. Is it true that he's dying and will no longer be a thorn in our sides?_ Aramis winced. _Forgive me Lord…I pray that he repents of his wrongdoings and somehow manages to find a place in heaven…_

A chuckle passed his lips at the ridiculous notion.

 _Forgive me again, Lord…it is not my place to pass judgment…_ Aramis sighed, at a total loss of what else to say. _I've asked forgiveness so many times for my indiscretion with the queen, and I ask yet again…and I also thank you from the bottom of my heart for the cardinal's unexpected reaction._

Sleep eluded Aramis for a long time that night as he dealt with the shock of Richelieu knowing. It eventually wore off and was replaced with relief, and he finally slept.

The next morning, Richelieu acted like nothing had happened, as if they'd never had that fateful conversation. They ate breakfast and spent time praying in the church before going outside to spend time in the gardens. It was a beautiful, restful day, and Aramis felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If he had nothing to fear from Richelieu, then he had nothing to fear at _all_.

That night, Aramis slept better than he had in months.

The next day was the day of their departure. They left mid-morning and Aramis again rode beside the carriage. It was while giving the cardinal a few minutes to stretch his legs that Aramis felt that familiar, God-given instinct that something was wrong.

A sudden hand on Richelieu's arm got his attention and he turned.

"Get back into the carriage," Aramis said.

The tone of his voice broke no argument, and Richelieu obeyed without question, dismayed to see how far he'd walked.

Aramis walked beside him, pistol in his hand. He suddenly saw the glint of sunlight off metal, and he quickly stepped in front of Richelieu and fired his gun.

Two gunshots sounded, and Aramis felt a burning pain streak itself across the right side of his head. He felt Richelieu reflexively catch him when he swayed backwards, but his other pistol was already in his hand and he was firing it again.

The Red Guards started shooting and fighting the men who suddenly appeared out of the woods, and Aramis grabbed Richelieu and rushed him to the carriage.

The cardinal let himself be pushed inside, and he was surprised when Aramis climbed in too.

"Go!" Aramis exclaimed to the driver, before thrusting his pistols at Richelieu. "Can you load these? Of course you can," he answered himself.

Richelieu's hands were shaking, but he obeyed without a word.

Aramis pointed his harquebus out the window, shooting the person that came into view as the carriage careened down the road.

Richelieu realized that some of the marauders had hidden some distance ahead, intending to take the carriage if it got away.

"Pistol!" said Aramis, holding out a hand.

Richelieu slapped one into his palm, placing the other one in easy reach on the seat as he reloaded the harquebus and placed that beside it.

Aramis had his second pistol pointed out the window, but no one else came into view, as Red Guards were now following the carriage and shooting at anyone else they saw.

Still terrified, Richelieu watched Aramis, bracing himself for the pistol to fire again, but it never did. He stared in shocked fascination at the blood that was turning much of Aramis' hair a deep red, and he wondered if the musketeer even felt the wound.

Finally, Aramis lowered the pistol, turning his body to sit in the seat across from Richelieu with a heavy sigh.

Richelieu just stared. "You do know that you're bleeding."

Aramis nodded, with a wince that he succeeded in hiding. "It's nothing."

Richelieu frowned, wondering if the musketeer had brain damage. "A third of your blood supply is in your hair...it'll start dripping soon and I really wouldn't like it to ruin the carpet."

Aramis chuckled, even as his face suddenly paled.

Richelieu stuck his head out the window and spotted Aramis' horse trotting right beside them, which he knew had a medical kit in the saddlebags. He yelled for the driver to stop the carriage, and then had one of the guards retrieve it and hand it inside.

Aramis quickly dug out a wad of cloth and held it to the wound, trying to hide a wince, but failing.

Richelieu watched him, as the carriage started rolling again. "Are you capable of tending yourself?"

"Not if it requires needlework," Aramis replied.

Richelieu blinked. "I don't see how it would be possible to avoid."

Aramis pulled the cloth away from his head and looked at it, seeing the fresh blood that covered it. "We need to stop at the first doctor that we find."

Not _a_ doctor…the _first_ doctor; the wound was obviously serious. "There are people in Paris who will be very upset with me if you die here," he replied.

Aramis chuckled. "There's no danger of that."

Richelieu looked at the amount of blood and wasn't so sure.

It was two more hours before they found a doctor. Aramis had remained sitting up, alert for anymore attacks on the cardinal, until Richelieu couldn't stand the sight.

"It is ridiculous for you to remain on duty in this condition," he'd eventually said. "Lie down before you faint and slip off the seat."

Aramis looked at him with heavy eyelids, and it was obvious that he was struggling with fatigue from the blood loss. "I can't leave you unguarded."

"I'm not," said Richelieu. "There are guards surrounding us, have you forgotten?"

Aramis tiredly blinked.

Richelieu sighed. "Must I do everything?" He reached over and took Aramis by his upper arms, forcefully pushing him down flat.

Aramis said nothing, his eyes automatically closing.

Richelieu lifted Aramis' legs onto the cushion, shoving them sideways so his knees would bend and allow his entire body to fit.

Aramis said nothing, though his hand holding the cloth to his head suddenly slid away, indicating that he'd passed out.

Richelieu made a sound of annoyance at the thought of blood dripping to the fabric, so he grudgingly picked up the cloth and held it to Aramis' head with a look of disgust.

When they finally reached a village and were directed to the nearest doctor, Richelieu grasped Aramis' shoulder and shook it. "Aramis," he said. "Wake."

The wounded musketeer didn't stir, so he tried again and looked up when the door opened and one of the Red Guards looked inside.

"You'll have to bring him in," said Richelieu. As he spoke, Aramis suddenly shifted so he looked at him again. "If you wish your wound to be stitched, you need to get out of the carriage."

Aramis blinked his eyes open and was motionless for a few seconds before trying to get up.

Richelieu had no choice but to help him, and he watched as two Red Guards reached into the carriage and took hold of the musketeer, hooking their arms under his and helping him shuffle towards the door.

Richelieu looked out the other window, knowing that his lavish carriage would attract attention. He knew that it might not be wise to stay in it, so he quickly got out and walked into the door behind the others.

The doctor was middle-aged and friendly. "What have we here?" he asked with concern, when he saw the blood. He spotted Richelieu but didn't know who he was.

"Make haste," the cardinal said. "The king is awaiting our return."

It took a few seconds, but the doctor's eyes grew huge when he figured it out. "Of-of course, Your Eminence!" He directed the guards to lay the half-conscious Aramis on a table, and immediately got to work.

Richelieu watched everything, enjoying the fact that he was making the doctor nervous. The pain of the stitching made Aramis more alert, and the doctor made some of the guards hold him down.

Richelieu could see how hard it was for Aramis to remain still, and he inwardly admired the musketeer's resolve.

By the time the doctor had finished, a row of fifteen stitches were needed to close the crease left by the bullet. Aramis was breathing heavily, his face much paler.

"Must you leave right away?" asked the doctor. "He needs to rest."

"It is unavoidable," said Richelieu, part of him fearing another attack on his person if they stayed any longer. "He'll have to rest in the carriage."

The doctor couldn't do anything about that, so he helped Aramis sit up and wrapped a bandage around his head.

It was obvious that the musketeer had been further weakened by the ordeal, as he required more support by the guards to get out the door.

Richelieu handed a gold coin to the doctor, who sputtered his thanks as he watched them leave.

With a sigh, Richelieu climbed back into the carriage, watching Aramis, who was again laying across the opposite seat.

"Thank you," said the musketeer.

Technically, Richelieu should've been the one thanking _Aramis_ , for taking the bullet that was meant for _him_ , but the gratitude was obviously for more than just the doctor's care. "Yes, yes," Richelieu answered, as if it was nothing.

Three or four more hours later, the carriage stopped, and a hand was shaking Aramis' shoulder again.

"We have arrived," Richelieu told him.

Aramis winced as he laboriously pulled himself upright, not looking forward to riding his horse back to the garrison. He took a few seconds to orient himself before trying to get out, and was surprised when he heard running footsteps.

"What happened?!" It was Porthos.

Aramis' eyes popped open, and he was surprised to see that they were at the garrison, not the palace.

"We were attacked on our way back," said Richelieu.

Hands latched onto Aramis and he was carefully pulled out of the carriage and lifted into Porthos' arms. Aramis knew that he wouldn't put him down if asked, so he submitted and said nothing as he was carried away.

"What are his wounds?" Treville asked the cardinal.

"Bullet graze to the head," Richelieu told him. "A doctor has tended him."

A chill of fear slid down Treville's spine to hear how close Aramis had come to death. "Thank you for bringing him here."

Richelieu nodded, and waved his hand as if it were nothing. He pulled the door closed and the carriage started to drive towards the gate.

Treville made sure that someone had taken Aramis' horse to the stable, and then he headed for his wounded musketeer's room.

"Don't touch it," he heard as he opened the door. "I'm fine."

Porthos barked an incredulous sound. "You were shot in the head! You're not 'fine'!"

"Grazed," Aramis corrected.

"Close enough," said Athos.

" _Too_ close," said Porthos. "I _knew_ the cardinal was up to somethin'!"

"He had nothing to do with it," said Aramis.

Treville approached the bed and looked down at him. "How do you know?"

Aramis looked up at him through heavy eyelids, his face very pale. "One of the attackers shot at him. If I hadn't jumped in front of him, Richelieu would be dead."

Porthos dropped his face into his head. "You took a bullet for the _cardinal_ , of all people! Why?!"

Aramis winced from the pain in his head and blinked his eyes, feeling too weak to have that conversation. "It was my duty…to protect him."

Treville patted his arm. "Rest, we'll talk when you're stronger."

Aramis closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The others glanced at each other and walked away from the bed.

"Do you think he's right?" Porthos whispered. "And this _wasn't_ the cardinal's doing?"

Athos shook his head. "I don't know."

Asleep a few feet away, Aramis dreamed that Richelieu was dead and he'd taken his place, living in the palace with the queen and their son.

THE END

*S1E9: 'Knight Takes Queen'.


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